Into the Shadows (Islands in the Mist Book 4)

by J. M. Hofer

  They collected all the dry wood they could find as they went along, throwing it in the rowboat. After a bit, Gawyr took a path up the mountainside, dragging the boat behind him as if it were a mere toy. It scraped against rocks and tree trunks as he climbed, until the path narrowed to a point where he had to hoist it up and balance it atop his massive head.

  “Not much further,” he grumbled weakly. As promised, they reached an area where the ground leveled out a bit, with a curved overhang of rock that provided shelter from above. He let out a groan and relieved himself of his heavy load. “Cave used to be much smaller than this. I chipped out the rock myself until I got it the size I wanted. Should still be a few things back in the cave unless someone’s found them since I was last here.” Gawyr lowered himself to the ground. “Should be a fire ring right about where you’re standing.”

  Taliesin found the pit, started a fire and rolled out their bedding beside it. He pulled the salve out of his bag and went over to his companion. Gawyr’s face was as pallid as milk, and the poor man was drenched in sweat. Taliesin felt his head. “You’ve got a fever.” He took his blanket and put it beneath Gawyr’s head, then took off his boots and lifted his foot up to rest it upon the edge of the rowboat. He pulled up Gawyr’s filthy trouser leg. The wound had swollen up to twice its original size, the skin red and hot to the touch. “That doesn’t look good.”

  “Doesn’t feel good either.”

  “I can imagine.” Taliesin looked through the contents of his crane bag. To his relief, he still had plenty of willow bark and meadowsweet to treat his patient’s fever. He set up a tripod and small cauldron, boiled some water, and set to work. Within the hour, he had prepared a tea to bring Gawyr’s fever down and re-salved his wound. Concerned, yet hopeful, he sat down with his back against the boat, where he could keep an eye his enormous patient.

  Soon, Gawyr was snoring. Braith rested her head in Taliesin’s lap and closed her eyes as well. Though he, too, was exhausted, he knew it would be no use trying to sleep with his worries gnawing at him. Instead, he took up his harp and sang. When he had verses to remember and notes to pluck, he could not think of his daughter or Arhianna’s lost memories. He could not think of Myrthin or Viviaine’s betrayal. He could not think of his father’s sorrow or his unknown brother. And he could not think of poor Griffin, dragged to the bottom of the bog. It was a mercy, music—the notes and rhythm marched before him, protecting him like a vanguard of soldiers from his enemies. None shall pass, they assured him. None shall pass.

  But his torturous thoughts were not the ones seeking to storm the walls that night—they were Gawyr’s. He began mumbling in his sleep, at first incoherently, but then more loudly. “No! Gods, no—what have I done? What have I done? This can’t be happening—oh, no, no…please. Please, no…”

  “Gawyr!” Taliesin shook him gently. “Wake up!”

  But Gawyr did not wake. His head flopped from side to side, his hair sticking to the side of his face, glistening with sweat.

  Taliesin took a rag, soaked it in the tea he had made, and sponged Gawyr’s face. He sat by his side all night, keeping vigil against the infection. Please, Arawn, don’t take him as well.

  ***

  Taliesin had dreamt of Nimue every night since seeing her. Because of this, when he smelled Affalon and heard her voice whispering his name in the dark, he assumed he was having a dream or vision. It was only when he felt a hand on his shoulder that he realized it was no dream.

  “Taliesin?”

  He whipped around, shocked that Braith had not barked a warning, but the dog was sitting next to Nimue as if she belonged to her. He scowled.

  She fell to her knees. “Please, I know what I did was wrong—I was a fool—all I ask is the chance to prove myself to you—to make things right.” She motioned toward Gawyr. “For his sake, let me help him. He will die before the dawn if you send me away.”

  Taliesin knew in his bones she spoke the truth. He had been fighting the panic of losing Gawyr all night.

  “Please…” She kneeled down beside the giant, looking like a tiny fawn next to a hibernating bear.

  He made no move to stop her, but when he saw another figure emerge from the trees into the firelight, he leapt up, dagger in hand. “What evil have you brought with you this time?”

  She jumped up and grabbed his arm. “Stop! Taliesin…please, I swear to you, we’ve come to make everything right—"

  The man turned his palms up in a gesture of peace. He wore a simple robe and hooded cloak of undyed wool with a rope about his waist instead of a proper belt. He wore not a single talisman or cuff. He threw back his hood to reveal a shaggy mass of reddish hair. His beard was groomed far better, perfectly uniform and trimmed around his strong jaw. His amber eyes reminded Taliesin of a fox. He met Taliesin’s gaze and held it fast. “I am Amergin of Ulaid. And just as Viviaine shall be your friend’s salvation, I shall be yours.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The Song of Amergin

  Viviaine nursed Gawyr through the night, coaxing the poison from his leg and whispering incantations over his body.

  “Do you know what it was that injured him?” Amergin asked Taliesin.

  Taliesin shook his head. “Something that lives in the bog we passed through below. Black, nasty thing. It was dusk. We couldn’t see it clearly. It got one of our hounds, as well. Or something else did.” He swallowed hard.

  Amergin nodded. “The water holds mysteries man shall never solve, not in a thousand lifetimes.” He sat down on the edge of the rowboat, closer to the fire. “Viviaine has told me of your plight. You have no hope of solving it alone. I am here because neither the king I serve nor I have any love for the Sídhefolk of Connacht. They have broken many a pact with us, but none more threatening than the one we fear they are plotting to break now.”

  “What pact is that?”

  “When my people conquered the Tuatha de Danaan, the terms were clear—we and our ancestors would forever rule the kingdoms of Eire that lay above, and they would rule the kingdoms that lay within. They retreated into the hills as agreed, and this is the way it must always remain.”

  Taliesin felt confused. “I don’t understand what my daughter has to do with any of this.”

  Amergin glanced over at Viviaine. “Then you are not as wise as she believes you to be. Why do you think they steal human children? They seek to breed the best of them. You, the father, were born of the goddess Cerridwen, and her mother is a Firebrand. What better pair could they have found for such a plan? Your daughter, if they succeed in wooing her into the Sídhe, could become a queen more powerful than Oonagh herself, for she shall be free to roam between the worlds. Much care must be taken to ensure she does not fall prey to their tricks. You must watch over her, and raise her to resist the temptations of the Sídhefolk, remembering all the while that you were unable to.”

  Taliesin felt offended. “What do you mean, I was unable to?”

  “Neither you nor Arhianna could resist their plan, clearly, or your daughter would not exist.”

  Taliesin wanted to protest, but could not. He had thought of Arhianna as a sister for most of his life. Yes, he loved her. Yes, he had felt drawn to her in other ways when they had reunited after being apart for so long. But would he have taken her to bed if not under the seductive influence of Knockma? Perhaps, but unlikely.

  “You must be vigilant,” Amergin cautioned. “Very vigilant. Or they shall have a weapon beyond any they have had before, and with it they shall seize back the kingdoms of Eire. After that, what is to stop them from sailing over the Irish Sea and taking your lands as well? Precious little. The Tuatha de Danaan are gods, not men.”

  “How did your people defeat them, then?” Taliesin thought of the gods and goddesses he had encountered—Cerridwen, Woden, Freya, Arianrhod—no mortal was any match for them. And he certainly could not fight. As Ula had pointed out, he was no warrior. What hope have I against the likes of that?

  “With a song.” Am
ergin looked over at Taliesin’s harp. “You doubt the power given to you. You think you are weak, because you judge yourself by the measure of other men. And so you shall be, for as long as you continue to do so.”

  And Amergin sang:

  Am gaeth i m-muir, I am wind on the sea,

  Am tond trethan, I am a wave on the shore,

  Am fuaim mara, I am the ocean’s thunderous roar,

  Am dam secht ndirend, A stag of seven tines,

  Am séig i n-aill, A hawk upon a cliff,

  Am dér gréne, A tear shed by the sun,

  Am cain lubai, A bloom within the turf,

  Am torc ar gail, I am a boar in valiant battle,

  Am he i l-lind, I am a salmon in a lake,

  Am loch i m-maig, I am the lake upon the plain,

  Am bri danae, I am a surge of poetry,

  Am bri i fodb fras feochtu, I am a pointed spear launching wrath,

  Am dé delbas do chind codnu, I am the god who kindles fire within.

  Then he raised his hands to the sky.

  Coiche nod gleith clochur slébe? Who, but I, illuminates the gatherings on the hills?

  Cia on co tagair aesa éscai? Who, but I, knows the age of the moon?

  Cia du i l-laig fuiniud gréne? Who, but I, knows the place where the setting sun goes to rest?

  The last note hovered in the air and then drifted away on the breeze, like the last apple blossoms of spring. Stunned, Taliesin looked up at the stars, surrendering himself to the heavens. I have lost my way, Islwyn. I never questioned who I was, or what I served—I always knew—even as a babe—but as a man, I have lost my way.

  Amergin looked over at him. “That song calmed the sea our enemies had churned against us, clearing the way for my brothers, warriors all, to take Eire for my people. I am a bard, not a warrior—just like you. Yet, without me, there would have been no victory that day.”

  Taliesin knew Amergin spoke true but felt more helpless than ever. “I am no match for Oonagh or Finbheara, or even Myrthin, I fear—but, for my daughter’s sake, I must become one. I know nothing of curses or binding magic. My teacher abhorred such practices. Yet I know I cannot defeat my enemies without an understanding of them.”

  Amergin raised his brows and nodded. “Such power is dangerous. He was right not to teach it.”

  “I want merely to understand it, so that I might defeat my enemies.”

  “I know.” Amergin looked over at Viviaine. “She came to me on your behalf and requested I take you as my apprentice. I refused, at first, until she told me of your daughter and the problem you face. I am willing to apprentice you, but only if you swear to fight this battle to the end—not just for your daughter, but for all of us—the men and women of Eire, and those in your own kingdoms.”

  Taliesin did not hesitate. He could see no other way forward. “I swear it. Teach me how to defeat them. I will not quit until we are victorious.”

  Amergin gave him a nod of satisfaction. “I accept. Finbheara and Oonagh are my enemies as well. They value nothing but pleasure and power. Myrthin was a fool to deal with them. His arrogance shall one day be the death of him.” He glanced over at Viviaine and leaned in closer. “And hers, I fear, shall be her love for you.”

  ***

  Taliesin did not sleep much that night, fearful Gawyr might take a turn for the worse, but he did not. Viviaine refused to leave his side. By the time the sun rose the next morning, Gawyr’s fever had broken, and the swelling and redness in his leg had subsided. “After a few days of rest you will feel yourself again,” Viviaine assured him.

  Gawyr groaned and sat up, filling the cave with his bulk. He looked down at Taliesin. “You should move on,” he croaked through a parched throat. “You don’t need me anymore with these two along. I’d just slow you down. Alt Clud’s just south of here. Not much further. Imagine they know the way.”

  “We do.” Amergin gave him a nod.

  Taliesin frowned. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you behind.”

  Gawyr let out a dismissive grunt. “Lived alone most of my days. Many of them right here in this cave. Feels like home. You should go now. You can make the most of the day and be in Alt Clud by tomorrow night.”

  “Your friend is right. We should go,” Amergin counseled.

  Taliesin had planned to write Arhianna a letter when they reached Alt Clud, and have Gawyr give it to her when he returned to Dun Scáthach. Now, that would not be possible. And yet, perhaps I need not say anything. He reached into his crane bag and pulled out Arianrhod’s feather.

  “Then, I must ask one last favor of you, Gawyr.”

  “Yes?”

  He put Arianrhod’s feather in Gawyr’s hand, hopeful it would restore Arhianna’s memories as it had once done for him after his long winter sleep beneath the blackthorne. “Give this feather to Arhianna when you see her. You must put it in her hand yourself. Don’t let anyone take it from you.”

  Gawyr nodded, tucking the feather gently into his massive breast pocket. “I swear I’ll place it in her hand myself.” He reached into his pack and produced a small leather pouch. “And this is for you. Your horse was worth at least that much. You may need it.”

  Taliesin took the pouch. It was the gold Urien had given Gawyr before they left Rheged. “Thank you. I pray we meet again soon.”

  “As do I, harp-mauler. Take care of yourself.”

  ***

  Taliesin, Viviaine and Amergin left Gawyr behind, determined to reach Alt Clud by the next evening. They had gone no more than a few feet before Amergin began making demands.

  “Where is your child now? And do not lie. We cannot protect her otherwise.”

  Taliesin felt an anxious cramp in his stomach. Have I made a mistake trusting them? He looked over at Viviaine. “You say all you’ve done was for us—to keep me with you.”

  Viviaine stopped in her tracks and glanced at Amergin. “Will you leave us awhile, please?”

  Amergin moved off, granting them some privacy. Once he was out of sight, she looked Taliesin in the eyes. “Yes, I want nothing else. I want to return to Affalon with you and live there, together, like before. That is the only thing in all the world I desire.”

  He wanted to believe her, but there was only one way to know if she spoke the truth.

  He bent down, took her face in his hands, and kissed her. In that moment, she became Nimue once more, yielding to him with such relief and abandon, such complete joy, that he knew in the deepest part of his soul that there could be no doubt of her love for him. He stroked her cheeks, now streaming with tears. “Hear me and know this—if you ever betray me again, or anyone I love, my hatred for you shall run so black and so deep, you shall feel it for all time. Whatever power I wield, I will use it against you.”

  She nodded her head, desperate relief in her eyes. “I shall never betray you or hide anything from you again. I swear this before Arianrhod, and upon every silver apple that grows in Affalon. Never again, my love.”

  He held her close, breathing in the smell of her hair, praying to all the gods that she spoke true. “And you’re certain Amergin can be trusted?”

  He felt her nod her head. “He can. He has long been an enemy of Sídhefolk of Connacht and an ally of mine. We can trust him.”

  As if he knew he was being spoken of, Amergin appeared again on the edge of the wood.

  “Let’s go,” Taliesin whispered, releasing her. He walked over to Amergin. “I will not tell you where my daughter is.”

  Amergin looked at Viviaine, concern lining his face. “I fear for her, then. As I said before, we cannot protect her if we do not know where she is.”

  “Nor can you betray us to our enemies. I haven’t known you long enough to trust you, Amergin of the Ulaid, and Viviaine has not yet earned my trust back. That will take time.” He felt better calling her Viviaine. It helped him separate the woman he loved from the one who had betrayed him.

  Amergin stared at him, as if he were searching for something in his eyes. “As you
wish, then.”

  “Good.” Taliesin took one last glance back at the three sisters and strode on.

  They walked all day, slowly yet steadily, never stopping to rest. By nightfall, they had reached the edges of an immense loch.

  “The Loch of the Elms,” Amergin remarked. “Alt Clud is another day’s walk from here, past the loch and then south along the river that flows from it. Ceredig’s castle stands where the river empties into the sea.”

  ***

  Taliesin opened his eyes just before dawn. Viviaine still slept, curled up like a cat by the fire, but Amergin was already awake. “I hate to wake her—she did not sleep at all the night before last. But we must go if we hope to make it by nightfall. The days are short.”

  Taliesin touched Viviaine lightly on the shoulder. She opened her eyes and got to her feet. Amergin pointed to the right. “We must stay on this side of the loch. The tribes to the east are fond of raiding.”

  The weather was kind, granting them a respite from the cold wind they had suffered the day before, but it still took them all day to travel the length of the loch. Dusk had fallen by the time they reached the outskirts of Alt Clud. It took Taliesin but a moment to spot the Ceffyl Dŵr in the harbor, her distinct silhouette recognizable even in the dying light. Thank the gods. “They’re still here,” he announced with relief, doubling his pace. He nearly floated the rest of the way into the city.

  ***

  Taliesin’s heart warmed at the sound of Tegid’s boisterous voice drifting down from the Ceffyl Dŵr. He ran ahead to the ship, eager to be among family after the ordeals of the past few moons. The ship creaked a welcome as he strode down the dock. “Ho! Tegid Voel!” he cried out through cupped hands.